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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736907">it's my party and i'll cry if i want to</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarquisdeDiscotheque/pseuds/MarquisdeDiscotheque'>MarquisdeDiscotheque</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zsazsa4/pseuds/Zsazsa4'>Zsazsa4</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>rat girl summer [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Come Eating, Cornelius Hickey Is His Own Warning, M/M, Rimming, like... everyone is here it's certainly a party, someone does get stabbed in the bum but like it's not a huge deal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:21:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarquisdeDiscotheque/pseuds/MarquisdeDiscotheque, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zsazsa4/pseuds/Zsazsa4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitzjames throws a party. Hickey is not on his best behaviour. Tozer becomes an unwitting accessory to a heinous crime, and no punishment.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Commander James Fitzjames/Sgt Solomon Tozer, Cornelius Hickey/Sgt Solomon Tozer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>rat girl summer [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it's my party and i'll cry if i want to</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was now gone eleven, and it was occurring to Fitzjames that Tozer might not turn up to his party at all. This was slightly disappointing, but more of a relief. At least he could stop thinking about it and get on with enjoying himself. It was irritating that Tozer hadn’t given him any warning, but at least he wouldn’t need supervising.</p><p>The house was comfortably full - friends, workmates, some of Crozier’s strange workmates too, mingling through the rooms. Fitzjames wanted to be the sort of host to effortlessly glide through the proceedings, but the tight knot in his stomach at the thought of introducing Tozer hadn’t quite gone away all afternoon, and even now (well onto his fourth gin and tonic and mildly tipsy) it persisted. Not to mention Hickey - Fitzjames suspected his threat to turn up was only a threat, but the possibility was concerning enough.</p><p>He was about to join in some inane conversation or other when his phone buzzed. <i>At station will be 5-10 xx</i>. Oh Christ, he thought, and downed his drink. Poured himself another drink and thought about downing that one as well.</p><p>‘You all right, James?’ Crozier was at his shoulder, watching Fitzjames’ gin sloshing about in its glass with a knowing eye. He seemed tired; consumed with work recently, and growing sloppier about keeping it at bay the rest of the time. Tonight was their night to decisively relax. Good job they were doing of that.</p><p>‘Fine. Absolutely fine.’ Fitzjames tried to steady his hand and cast about for how to direct Crozier away from the door. ‘You know, I think Edward was looking a little blue in the garden.’</p><p>‘I see enough of Edward already.’</p><p>‘Well. Still. You know.’ He gestured in a way that seemed to imply something needed doing. </p><p>Crozier didn’t know what James’ game was, but he seemed flustered enough. Better agree to his whims. Besides, he could do with the cold air and the excuse to sit in slightly miserable silence for a bit. </p><p>Fitzjames watched Crozier’s body weave through the crowds and slip out the back door. He felt perhaps a single muscle in his shoulder relax; that was one problem sorted, for now. He couldn’t face introducing Tozer to Crozier properly without at least a couple more drinks in him. </p><p>And not a moment too soon. Fitzjames practically winced when the doorbell rang, but reminded himself that he had invited Tozer; that he had been looking forward to seeing him; that he was, at this very moment, looking forward to seeing him.</p><p>Unfortunately, Tozer appeared to be a little drunk. Not extremely drunk, but definitely drunk. He was carrying himself carefully and enunciated more than normal. What was far, far, worse was the greasy, scruffy, huge-nosed head poking round the side of the door.</p><p>‘Brought you some beer,’ Tozer said, and Fitzjames remembered his manners and gave Tozer a kiss on the cheek. Tozer looked mildly put out at that.</p><p>‘That all I get? Come on. You’re not embarrassed of us?’ Fitzjames very, very much hoped that the us was singular. He was not sure he’d vouch for Hickey. Tozer suddenly frowned. ‘They do all… know you’re gay, right?’</p><p>‘Don’t know how anyone wouldn’t,’ Hickey muttered, then squeezed in past Fitzjames.</p><p>In a daze, Fitzjames gave Tozer a proper kiss and felt the reassuring lines of his shoulders, his waist, as much to ground himself as to appreciate Tozer’s heft. ‘Thank you for the beer, it’s… lovely.’ He didn’t note what kind of beer it was. Hickey was loose in his house. Oh, god. And he’d cleaned, as well.</p><p>He tried not to dwell too heavily on the anxiety gnawing at his chest, and took in Tozer fully for the first time. He’d dressed nicely for the occasion, sort of, ditched the usual falling-apart parka for a slightly less worn leatherish jacket and a button-up shirt beneath, although the shirt didn’t quite fit properly. Fortunately he hadn’t had his hair cut so he didn’t look like a skinhead.</p><p>‘Come on,’ Fitzjames said, steeling himself. ‘Let’s get a drink, and you can meet everyone.’</p><p>‘Everyone’ turned out to be an odd assortment. Tozer didn’t hate them as much as he’d thought he would, or at least, a couple of them. Someone had pressed a beer into his hand, and into Hickey’s too, and Hickey was drinking it down even though Tozer knew he didn’t like to drink. Tozer had told himself that he wouldn’t watch Hickey, or even think about him, but let him do what he liked; he wasn’t doing very well at it so far, unhappily and irrationally convinced that Hickey was keen on every man he so much as looked at.<br/>
He was already a little bitter at James and Hickey both abandoning him, leaving him to make small talk with people he didn’t know.</p><p>A very odd man introduced as George was regaling Tozer with something to do with… something (music? he thought dimly), but he wasn’t paying attention. He could see Hickey striking up a conversation across the room with another nutcase, this time with a beard, who looked distinctly uncomfortable at how close they were standing. Hickey was staring where he had been all evening, though: making eyes, with such intensity as to look semi-demented, at Fitzjames’s old balding friend Francis. Tozer couldn't fathom what Hickey might want with him. Surely he wasn’t attracted to him? Was he? Christ. </p><p>‘You want to watch out,’ he said, when Hickey wandered back to get a very uncharacteristic third drink. ‘I think James said he’s some sort of policeman. Not a real one. Financial crime or something.’</p><p>‘Hmm?’ Hickey said, concentrating very hard on opening the beer. It sprayed a little onto his hand and he licked it off. Tozer was reminded of some feral animal, like the foxes that lived behind his block of flats and ripped up bags of rubbish rooting around for scraps of food.</p><p>‘James’s mate you keep staring at, so you might want to set your sights elsewhere. How are you this drunk, you’ve only had two.’</p><p>Hickey finally seemed to register what Tozer was saying. He frowned and pushed at Tozer’s chest. ‘You jealous?’ His voice was a bit slurred, and his movements exaggeratedly flirtatious.</p><p>Tozer shrugged. ‘I just wouldn’t go messing with him if I was you.’ Jealous, of <i>Francis</i>. He needed another drink himself.</p><p>He’d thought he was being discreet until he realised that the first weird man - George - was staring at him, as were a couple of other people. Hickey batted his eyelashes and said, ‘Fine, all right,’ before stalking back off into the crowd. The man with the beard - he had been introduced, Tozer knew it, but all that he could remember was that he seemed uptight and had been holding a very expensive-looking bottle of wine - had gone upstairs, and Tozer watched grimly as Hickey followed. That was that, then.</p><p>He went to stand by a table of snacks that Fitzjames had laid out and started methodically working his way through them. He was joined by one of James’ friends, the prematurely grey one with some stupid name or other, who seemed content to munch in silence. They shared a glance.</p><p>A hint of recognition passed over the man’s face, and he smiled at him. ‘Oh, you’re James’ fellow, aren’t you. I say, he’s got some good whisky stashed away in that cupboard. Fancy a snifter?’ </p><p>Tozer did fancy a whisky; unfortunately, calling it a ‘snifter’ got them off to a bad start. Even worse, once they started drinking it the bloke started telling him about it and he truly, truly, could barely care less at the best of times.</p><p>‘It’s an Islay - you see the colour? I prefer it to a Highland.’</p><p>Tozer just nodded, made a show of sniffing it, drank it and prayed for it to be over. It might well have been nice but he was in the sort of mood where he refused to enjoy it.</p><p>Still, he took another glass when offered. And when offered again. Maybe he’d start enjoying himself proper once he’d had a few more - or at least, with Fitzjames and Hickey both off somewhere, it’d make talking to strangers more tolerable. </p><p>As the grey-haired man excused himself, Tozer felt a sort of satisfaction at proving all of Fitzjames’ obvious reservations about inviting him right. Then he caught sight of a slight little dark-haired bloke standing on his own and thought, fuck it; he might as well make something of the night.</p><p>***</p><p>Edward Little was having the conversation of his life. To be precise, the culmination of every nightmare he’d had in his life. He’d been sort of flattered, at the stocky stranger he’d seen previously on Fitzjames’ arm taking an interest and sidling up to him, but it seemed to have spiralled rapidly downhill from there. </p><p>‘Oh, and he scams old ladies,’ Tozer said, then took a swig of beer. Some of it spilled onto Little’s thigh, but he was too gone to notice. ‘And his boyfriend - I’m not his boyfriend, really - died of a parasite.’</p><p>‘You’re not dating exclusively? Hang on, a… a parasite?’</p><p>‘Yeah.’</p><p>‘That doesn’t sound… that sounds made up.’</p><p>‘It might be, he lies to us all the time. Anyway, Billy - that’s his proper boyfriend, yeah, parasite man - he’s definitely dead. So I suppose it doesn’t make much difference.’</p><p>Little stared at his drink and tried very, very hard to bring it into focus. It worked, slightly - he now had one and a half drinks instead of two.</p><p>‘There there,’ he said. It somehow seemed a good idea to put his hand up the back of Tozer’s shirt. He reasoned that he might find it comforting.</p><p>‘But you must know all about that, eh. Tell you what, that’s love, Edward, isn’t it. He’s a right bollocks, tells me I’m thick all the time and that. And this is just between us but he’s into some weird stuff with balls. But,’ he repeated emphatically, ‘that’s love, Edward.’ </p><p>Little wondered if he could excuse himself to go for a piss, but felt he was too far in. And he wasn’t confident his legs would take him to the bathroom in this state. Tozer had come up close by his ear but was still almost shouting, Little his sole audience member, and Little was starting to wish he’d stayed sulking in the flowerbeds for the whole duration of the party, instead of allowing himself to be dragged back inside and abandoned.<br/>
Abandoned to this awful, awful, strangely compelling fate. Tozer’s back was very, very warm, and went some way to making up for the whole thing, but then the whole thing did include rather a lot of spit in his ear.</p><p>When he caught a glimpse of Fitzjames’ loud shirt coming into view he didn’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed. </p><p>‘Ah, Edward! So Francis dragged you back in, did he? Getting along well?’ Fitzjames smiled eagerly, putting a hand on Tozer’s shoulder. He had the air of a working mother on the very verge of nervous collapse.</p><p>‘All right, James,’ Tozer said, lurching forward in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Fancy another drink?’</p><p>‘Hold on -’ James said, to Tozer’s vanishing back, before Little took his chance and grabbed him.</p><p>‘Look, it’s your business, obviously, but I really felt I had to say something because he did seem a touch upset.’ He took a moment to try to come up with something to say, desperately grasping for the words. ‘It doesn’t sound like you’re being very - well - decent to the bloke, with the garage and saying he’s thick and the - the - parasite. I’m not sure I understood that.’</p><p>‘Oh,’ James said. It took him a moment to piece together what must’ve been said, and after the initial lurch of paranoia had worn off he managed a laugh. ‘Oh, he’s not talking about me. He’s talking about the, the other man he’s been seeing.’</p><p>Fitzjames supposed he should be thankful - his good name remained unsullied in Edward’s big, sad eyes. But a part of him was strangely jealous. He did, for a moment, want it to be him. It might have been nice in a horrible, mortifying sort of way if Tozer was going around telling everyone about how much James was upsetting him.</p><p>Charlie Des Voeux had been listening to the whole conversation from a sofa, and very much avoiding being drawn into it until now. ‘You ought to call the RSPCA on his… his other boyfriend, was it? He sounded like a dog who’s so desperate to be petted he’ll still go back to the man who kicks him.’ He gave a drunken giggle. ‘At least you know it’s not you being done for animal cruelty.’</p><p>‘Oh, fuck off, you horrible little gnome,’ Fitzjames said, and stalked off towards the kitchen.</p><p>He found Tozer sitting on the floor, leaning with his back against the fridge, in what he could only assume was an aborted attempt to get another drink. ‘I’ll make you a coffee,’ Fitzjames said. This was a mistake; he had not realised how drunk he was until he tried to use his coffee machine. He stared at the coffee pods and then stumbled over to the kettle. Unfortunately, he then managed to drop the jar of instant coffee so that the granules spilt all over the floor.</p><p>‘Don’t go to any trouble, another beer would do me,’ Tozer said, with eccentrically long pauses between his words.</p><p>‘No!’ said Fitzjames, wanting to be in control and realising he was definitely losing his grip. It’d come out more of a shout than he’d intended. ‘I’m looking after you.’</p><p>‘You making coffee?’ Tozer said. ‘Smells nice.’</p><p>‘I just said I was making coffee! And no, I’m not after all, I just dropped it everywhere.’</p><p>‘Oh,’ said Tozer, as if this was the most reasonable thing in the world. ‘How about a cuddle then?’ Fitzjames looked down at the floor and felt a sudden urge to cry. He nodded.<br/>
‘Shall I suck you off?’ Tozer looked hopeful, all thoughts of beer, coffee and cuddling forgotten.</p><p>‘No! You’re too drunk.’</p><p>‘I’m not. I’d like to.’</p><p>‘God,’ Fitzjames said. ‘I’m forty-seven, it’s -’ he squinted at the kitchen clock - ‘about two in the morning, we’re in a public kitchen, and I’m far too drunk.’</p><p>‘Fancy pulling me off then? I’m never too drunk.’</p><p>Fitzjames frowned, and then sat himself down beside Tozer. He’d mislaid any of the grace (natural or affected) he’d once possessed. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to unzip Tozer’s fly properly, let alone toss him off, and he suspected that Tozer’s performance might not be up to his usual standards. He settled for looking into Tozer’s face. Tozer’s eyes seemed very close together and very unfocused. He tried to reach for a bottle of water on the counter.</p><p>‘Is that coffee? I’d rather have a beer,’ Tozer repeated.</p><p>‘No,’ Fitzjames said. ‘Forget about the coffee. I’m not making coffee. Please.’</p><p>‘It smells like coffee.’</p><p>‘I know. I know it does.’</p><p>Tozer stared into Fitzjames’ face, or thereabouts, and tried to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Fitzjames’ ear. He ended up hitting Fitzjames in the eye with his thumb. He did not try again.</p><p>‘James,’ Tozer said, ‘this is very important. It’s - give me a second.’ James’ heart leapt into his mouth. ‘Hang on. Yeah, it’s my jacket. My jacket’s gone. I can’t find it.’</p><p>Fitzjames blinked. ‘Your - your jacket. Been stolen.’</p><p>‘You think it’s been stolen? I just said I couldn’t find it.’</p><p>‘Was probably Des Voeux,’ Fitzjames said, in a moment of what seemed like clarity. ‘I don’t think he liked you very much and I don’t know why I invited him! Why did I invite these people?’</p><p>‘I don’t even know who that is,’ Tozer said plaintively.</p><p>Before they could get to the bottom of this mystery, a dark shadow fell across the kitchen. A small, slightly rattish, but definitely dark shadow. Hickey frowned over them. He looked hurried, and if Fitzjames could’ve summoned the necessary thought he’d have thought perhaps panicked. But Hickey didn’t seem to get panicked. ‘Got your jacket, Sol,’ he said. ‘We ought to be heading off.’</p><p>‘Give us the fucking jacket back,’ Tozer said. ‘Urgh, what’s on it?’</p><p>‘Oh, that’s been there ages,’ said Hickey, attempting to marshall Tozer to his feet and failing.</p><p>‘Why’s it wet?’</p><p>‘Come on,’ Hickey said, obviously impatient. ‘Get a move on. We have to go, now.’</p><p>‘Fucking hell, Cornelius, James here was just about to make us a coffee! What’s all this about?’</p><p>Hickey bent down to whisper something in Tozer’s ear, and Tozer turned a slightly funny colour.</p><p>‘All right, let’s go,’ he said, stumbling to his feet. ‘Bye, James.’</p><p>Fitzjames absolutely did not understand what was going on, but he felt the absence of Tozer against his side keenly. They seemed to be in an awful rush, he thought. A bit cruel, to leave a chap on the floor of his own kitchen without so much as a kiss goodbye. Then, just as the front door slammed, he became aware of an almighty commotion elsewhere in the house.</p><p>He pulled himself up, stepped through the mess of coffee and held on to the kitchen doorframe to watch the scene unfold.</p><p>‘I’m not- I have a doctorate in carcinology, I’m not that sort of doctor -’ Goodsir seemed to be saying from the living room. </p><p>‘He’s a doctor of crabs!’ Dundy proclaimed cheerfully from somewhere on the sofa. ‘But not that sort of crabs, either.’</p><p>‘Good evening!’ Fitzjames called from the doorway. It didn’t seem the right phrase but he couldn’t summon anything else. He really should go into the living room, but it seemed an awfully long way to walk unassisted. ‘Somebody - please - oh, for the love of god, what’s that on the rug?’</p><p>‘Spot of blood,’ Dundy said. ‘Not to worry, it’s being dealt with. Applied pressure and called a cab for A&amp;E, although there isn’t too much blood. He won’t let us look at it, though.’</p><p>Fitzjames wished acutely that he were still slumped by the fridge. The idea of simply sitting down and passing out seemed more and more tempting. Still, this was his party and he had to face up to it. ‘Who won’t let you look at what?’</p><p>‘Irving, he’s had a little accident in the bathroom,’ said Des Voeux. </p><p>In a moment of pure horror Fitzjames prayed that it’d been the guest bathroom. It was an unkind thought, but- well. ‘An- an accident? Requiring A&amp;E? Blood?’</p><p>‘Sorry, that was me,’ said Dundy. ‘Tracked it in. No, Charlie will have his little joke but it seems like your man Irving has a bit of a gash in his buttock. That is, someone stabbed him in the arse. But he’s entirely conscious and very embarrassed so it can’t have been deep.’</p><p>‘At least it’s all wipe clean,’ Des Voeux said.</p><p>In a daze, Fitzjames pushed past the crowd of onlookers and pulled himself up the stairs. The blood trail seemed to originate from the guest bathroom (small mercies), but the door was firmly closed.</p><p>‘John?’ he knocked. ‘John.’ He did not know what to say to someone who might just have been stabbed in the buttock. It hadn’t been something he had ever prepared for.</p><p>The door opened, and Hogson’s wispy head peeked around the side. ‘Oh, James! Cometh the hour, cometh the man! We thought to guard him against that awful pest. Rather exciting, though.’</p><p>‘He’s fine,’ said a familiar gloomy tone. ‘Aren’t you?’</p><p>Fitzjames pushed open the door fully and surveyed his second-best bathroom, which had acquired three new occupants. Irving sat on the toilet, looking confused and pained, his trousers around his ankles. He appeared to be holding a cloth firmly to one buttock. Edward Little sat on the lip of the bathtub. </p><p>‘What were the two of you doing in the toilet?’ Fitzjames asked, then instantly regretted it.</p><p>‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Irving said.</p><p>‘We’ve pieced it together,’ Hodgson said, receiving a silencing look from the other two. </p><p>Fitzjames joined Little to sit by the bath. He tried to look kindly, and fixed Irving with a gentle stare. ‘I really do have to know. As this is my house, and I don’t know what ambulance or police or so on will be turning up.’</p><p>‘Well,’ Irving said. ‘I… He followed me in here, I really was only going to the toilet. And we… and I felt a knife in his back pocket.’ James did not ask what Irving had been doing to feel it. ‘Then he took it out to show me it was harmless and I tried to grab it off him and… I… now I’m here. It wasn’t my fault.’</p><p>‘He’s so drunk he barely remembers it,’ Little said, ‘which I can only hope is true of me as well.’</p><p>‘I see,’ James said. ‘Well, so long as he isn’t actively bleeding to death I suppose we can wait in here.’ It wasn’t a sentence he’d ever thought he’d say. Where had he gone wrong? Most people threw parties where nobody got stabbed and everybody had a jolly nice time and perhaps someone threw up in the bathroom, but that was only to be expected. Perhaps even a few lazy bathroom hookups, he’d had his fill. But no stabbings, no A&amp;E, no police reports. Police reports - oh - </p><p>‘Where’s Francis?’ he asked. His mind filled with hysterical images of Francis laid out in some other room bleeding to death, Francis with a chalk outline around his chubby body. </p><p>‘Oh,’ Hodgson said cheerily, ‘he got very drunk and someone put him to bed hours ago. Bucket by the bed job, I think.’</p><p>Fitzjames thought about waking him, because he didn’t want to deal with anything on record alone, but he also couldn’t face dealing with Crozier. Or, indeed, explaining the situation more than once. Explaining the situation at all. Oh, god.</p><p>He made a mental note to have strong words with Solomon.</p><p>***</p><p>The hangover could’ve been worse, all things considered. He’d even managed to drunkenly put his jacket into the washing machine before he went to bed, although he’d not switched it on. Now, upon reassessment of his bedsit in the light of day, Tozer felt it could have been very much worse. He’d not even been sick. Perhaps he was still drunk.</p><p>Hickey groaned next to him, although it was muffled since he’d managed to steal all the duvet in the night.</p><p>‘Feeling delicate?’ Tozer said.</p><p>‘I’m fine,’ Hickey snapped, face in his hands. He blinked against the light coming in through Tozer’s open curtains, and then seemed to turn a little paler than normal. ‘Just headachey.’</p><p>‘There’s paracetamol in the bottom drawer,’ Tozer said. ‘I’ll get you a glass of water. Christ, I really don’t remember leaving last night.’ He made a face; he could smell the alcohol fumes coming off himself. ‘You had more than usual as well.’</p><p>Hickey mumbled into the pillow and didn’t look up. Tozer guessed it was the drunkest Hickey had been in a long while - and god, but it showed on the both of them.</p><p>A shower made him feel a bit more human - practically refreshed. When he came out, still towelling himself off, he’d almost felt good, although he had a nagging sensation he’d done something he shouldn’t have.</p><p>‘Did I keep asking to suck you off last night?’ he said.</p><p>Hickey peered out of the duvet. ‘What?’</p><p>‘I’m sure I asked someone if I could suck them off, but I don’t know who.’</p><p>‘Well, you’re more than welcome to,’ Hickey said. He patted the dip in the mattress where Tozer had been lying. ‘Come here.’ </p><p>If Tozer had plans for the coming day, or reservations about the night before, all were forgotten in Hickey’s surprisingly comfortable embrace. Hickey still smelt awful, of course, the girly fruity cider lingering on his breath, only more sour - and there was a load of dirt under his nails. ‘You look like you’ve been gardening or something.’</p><p>‘Weird,’ Hickey said, with a totally unconvincing look of confusion. Before Tozer could question him, he unravelled himself from the duvet and hauled himself on top of Tozer, straddling him.  </p><p>‘Can you just wank on my face or something,’ Tozer said. ‘I don’t want to move.’</p><p>Far from the usual derision this would produce, Hickey seemed willing. He moved to stroke Tozer’s damp chest and kissed him there, met Tozer’s gaze with a soft look.<br/>
‘You don’t have to move. I’ll look after you.’</p><p>Tozer could not believe his luck. </p><p>‘Well, you might have to move a little bit,’ Hickey said, gently guiding him down the bed so that his legs were half off it, Hickey kneeling between them on the floor. He kissed at Tozer’s cock, nuzzling it as it hardened, lying against his lips, ran a hand over his pubic hair, still slightly damp from the shower and musty. All too soon he moved down, kissing and licking at the inside of Tozer’s thighs. It tickled, a little, before Hickey sucked more firmly. No biting, nothing hard enough to leave a mark as he sometimes liked doing, but enough that Tozer gasped and twisted, thigh muscles tensing. Hickey used a hand to fondle Tozer’s balls and Tozer relaxed back into the pillows. </p><p>Staring at the ceiling, he realised Hickey was beginning to lick at the underside of his balls, moving his legs to rest on Hickey’s shoulders for a better angle. Ah. It wasn’t half bad though, a lick across his taint making his cock jump.</p><p>Hickey looked up at him for a moment, smiling innocently. ‘Want me to keep going?’</p><p>‘Yeah. Yeah, go on,’ Tozer said. His whole body felt warm, lax. The bed was soft, the man at his feet was willing to lick his arsehole, and all felt right with the world.</p><p>‘Good,’ Hickey said, spreading his arse cheeks. ‘You never let me look at you properly here.’</p><p>‘Don’t know what you want to be looking at it for,’ Tozer said, flushing. Hips canted up and legs over Hickey’s shoulders, he felt completely exposed. Hickey just shrugged and smiled.</p><p>He felt Hickey’s tongue press against his entrance, and Hickey hum contentedly. ‘You are hairy,’ he said against Tozer’s thigh. ‘Just armpits, legs and here.’</p><p>‘Oh, fuck off.’ Tozer tried to squirm away but Hickey held him in place.</p><p>‘No, I like it.’ He went back to licking at Tozer’s arse, sucking at it in ways which should be obscene if Tozer thought too hard about them. Instead he just gave himself over to it fully, legs shaking as Hickey licked deeper. In place of the bodily tension he usually felt during sex, muscles drawn tight, he was entirely relaxed, easy in himself and in what they were doing. He didn’t have to think - it washed over him, calming and gentle. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘oh,’ couldn’t help himself, as Hickey worked a finger inside. He wasn’t as insistent as usual. Instead he took his time, seemed in no hurry to get more into him, stroking Tozer with broad languid movements, his tongue still lapping at his entrance. </p><p>It took him by surprise, when it happened - he hadn’t thought he could do it like that, without his cock touched. He came all up his own stomach, gasping. ‘Oh,’ he said again, softly.</p><p>Hickey continued to touch and lick into him, making him squirm, until Tozer had to push his head away. Hickey looked up at him. There was a little spit in his beard, and his cheeks were flushed pink. Perhaps he really was still drunk. He crawled up beside Tozer and hugged at his chest, yawning into it. Tozer could feel Hickey’s cock half-hard against him, but couldn’t summon up the energy to do anything about it. </p><p>Hickey sat up and began to bring himself off in lazy strokes, looking at Tozer with some fondness. It didn’t take him long to finish.</p><p>He held out his hand, cum in his palm and beaded on his fingers. ‘Open wide.’</p><p>Tozer stared at it. ‘You’re not serious.’</p><p>Hickey looked wounded. ‘I just put my tongue up your arse and you don’t hear me complaining.’</p><p>‘You asked to,’ Tozer muttered. ‘And I’ve showered.’ Nevertheless, he let Hickey feed it to him, leisurely, first eating it off his palm then obediently sucking the last of it off his fingers. Something tasted vaguely off - metallic, harsher than cum normally would. He chalked it up to the drinking. </p><p>He’d still got Hickey’s finger in his mouth when he heard his phone ring, vibrating from the pocket of jeans strewn on the floor. </p><p>The sense of peace, of having gotten away with something, was ruptured as he picked up and heard James’ terse voice at the other end.</p><p>‘Solomon.’ </p><p>‘All right?’ he said. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’ He scratched at his balls, sat down on the sofa to get himself comfy. </p><p>‘Feeling? I’m feeling - well, I’m feeling awful. I’m feeling both very hungover and also feeling like someone got stabbed in the arse in my toilet last night!’</p><p>‘You - you what?’ Tozer’s stomach suddenly felt very heavy. ‘Stabbed? Who?’</p><p>‘Irving. Your friend stabbed him, as you very well know because the two of you left in a hurry.’ </p><p>‘I don’t remember,’ Tozer said. ‘Last thing I remember is something to do with that mate of yours. The little dark-haired one. Did I offer to suck him off?’ Not that it mattered much in light of this. He suddenly wasn’t feeling too clever. He’d half-managed to persuade himself that last night was just a drunken dream.</p><p>‘What, <i>Charlie?</i>’</p><p>‘No, no, what’s his name. The other one. The moody one. And some coffee or something? Were we in the kitchen?’</p><p>‘Oh, you mean Ned? Did you try and suck Ned off- actually, forget it.’ James sighed audibly. ‘I know you’re not as stupid as you pretend to be. If you could put your friend on the phone I’d appreciate it.’</p><p>‘My - oh, Cornelius you mean? Oh, he’s not here.’ Hickey gurned at him from the bed, where he was once more swaddled in the covers up to his neck. ‘I haven’t seen him since yours.’</p><p>‘You left together, didn’t you?’</p><p>‘Told you, I don’t remember, but we didn’t go home together. He’s got a lock-up over in Walthamstow but it’s not really got a street address.’</p><p>Hickey wriggled in his duvet and narrowed his eyes in warning. For reasons he hadn’t deigned to explain to Tozer, he seemed to have abandoned the lock-up and started squatting at Tozer’s instead, although hadn’t changed his ideas of appropriate tidiness and hygiene. Tozer had been mildly gratified at first. The feeling hadn’t entirely gone, but he was starting to think Hickey’s move hadn’t been as benign as it’d first appeared. </p><p>‘And?’ Fitzjames’ exasperation was palpable. ‘A phone number? Where does he get his post? Solomon, please, this is important.’</p><p>‘Is this Irving going to press charges?’</p><p>‘What bloody charges, it was his own fault,’ Hickey muttered, before Tozer gestured at him to shut up. Had Hickey been going to mention it to him at all, or just let him stumble around?</p><p>Hickey made a throat-cutting gesture from the bed in return.</p><p>‘I have no idea,’ Fitzjames said, ‘but you don’t seem to entirely understand that this is serious.’</p><p>‘I do!’</p><p>‘There where is he?’</p><p>‘Dunno,’ Tozer said automatically. ‘No, no, wait.’ Part of him felt a bit guilty, a bigger part of him was royally pissed off at Hickey, and most of all he wanted to get himself out of this mess. ‘Well, he has a PO box registered under some initials but I don’t know the number or anything. Not his initials, though. He was having the post through me but he’s not anymore. Tell you what,’ he said, scowling at Hickey, ‘the garage is by the waterworks. Blackhorse Road way. No, I can’t be more specific, I don’t remember what it’s called but there aren’t that many waterworks. Row of condemned lock-ups, about fifteen of them, his is in the middle.’</p><p>Hickey looked distinctly murderous. Tozer was glad he was on the sofa, out of reach.</p><p>‘I am- I am sorry about your party, James.’</p><p>‘It’s all right,’ Fitzjames said, although it clearly wasn’t. ‘I’ll let you get back to your Sunday.’ He hung up.</p><p>‘You fucking idiot,’ Hickey said. ‘What did you tell him that for?’</p><p>‘What did <i>I</i> tell him for? You-’ Tozer wanted nothing more than to give Hickey a slap. ‘Next time, tell me when you stab someone. Or better, don’t stab anyone!’ He was almost shouting.</p><p>Hickey looked chastened for not nearly long enough, before his mouth twitched into a bit of a smile. ‘Come on, you’ve got to admit it was funny, he got himself stabbed in the bum.’</p><p>It was funny, and Tozer almost laughed at it but managed to stop himself. ‘Yeah, by you. It didn’t just happen.’</p><p>‘Well, yeah, ok. But I did tell you last night. Not my fault you got so drunk you forgot everything. Bad habit, by the way, you should cut down on your drinking.’ Tozer found himself speechless. ‘And you shouldn’t have ratted me out without asking, we could have come up with something together. You’ve just dropped yourself in it even more.’ </p><p>Tozer frowned. That didn’t seem right to him. ‘At least this way he’ll leave me out of it and he won’t be turning up here looking for you for a bit. And don’t get mixed up about it, Cornelius, I shan’t be lying to get you out of anything.’ Saying it, he could almost believe it. ‘You’ve been moving your rubbish out of the garage anyway,’ he added lamely.</p><p>Hickey seethed. ‘I still have loads of stuff there, I’ve got cash and - all sorts.’ He got up from the bed, ignoring the pile of discarded clothes on the floor (Tozer did not want to acknowledge that they were bloodied, but they certainly were) and wandered to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. </p><p>‘They’ll be poking around the filter beds for weeks without finding it, if they even try,’ Tozer called.</p><p>He bent to pick up the clothes, hating himself for doing it. At least he could get the blood out of everything in one go. He rifled through Hickey’s pockets - money, cigarettes, a phone. No wallet. </p><p>‘Cornelius-’ he called out, only slightly nervous. But Hickey had already started the shower running.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>luckily I've never been to a party where anyone got stabbed in the bum, but writing this fic just made me realise how much I miss going to a house party and drunkenly sitting on the floor repeating myself. you would cry too if it happened to you</p></blockquote></div></div>
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